


I was in love with my Latin teacher

by HansBlanke



Category: David Bowie (Musician), Iggy Pop (Musician)
Genre: Don't Judge Me, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Short, for serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HansBlanke/pseuds/HansBlanke
Summary: What might have happened (who knows tho) on a nice Berlin afternoon.
Relationships: David Bowie/Iggy Pop
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	I was in love with my Latin teacher

**Author's Note:**

> I was in love with my Latin teacher, roughly a year ago. I couldn't stop smiling at her, and I gave her a chocolate once, but otherwise I made sure she never knew. I mean, I have a wholesome boyfriend now but it took me one (1) minute of thinking about her before I wrote this.

Jim watched David pick up a new book and squinted to make out the name on the cover. It tasted vaguely of Old Rome.

"Who's that?" he asked in a casual tone that made it clear he was mildly interested in literature and there was no way he wanted David's attention for himself instead. No way.

"A Latin author," David said amicably.

"You fancy Latin?"

David glanced up, although not at Jim, and looked thoughtful for a second. "I fancy the memories."

"Of the Roman Empi—"

"I was in love with a Latin teacher."

Jim wasn't drinking or anything, but that made him choke. Or maybe it was a catch in his chest—had there been any reason for that, that is.

"I took an extra class to have an extra look and failed splendidly. Never even took the exam." David stole a smile at him.

Jim's mouth went a little dry. "Wish I had Latin," he murmured. Not that he meant it.

David's eyes shone over him again. He held up the book—as in, _here it is—_ and sent the pages awhirl. "Aha. How do you like number 109?"

"That's a perfectly fine number to me?"

David held a dramatic pause before he started reading. Jim's mind, clouded with blissful ignorance, was just happy to take the gibberish sounds for the old language; still, it sounded somewhat familiar. Jim caught himself realigning the phonetics so that it sounded like English—and even though he knew languages didn't work that way, there was something scarily attractive about the idea of David saying those things. _To him._

"What's that mean anyway?" Jim's voice was _deadly_ casual.

David shrugged, his smile undecipherable. "Poetry."

_Bitch._

He put the book down on the small table, and there it lay for a couple of days. Jim went around the room, always aware of its presence, as if it could be watching him. He wasn't going, ever in his life, to as much as touch a Latin book, no matter if he was high, or drunk, or sober. But there was a charge building between what had been said and what Jim had made of it. On a particularly frustrating evening, when David was out to get food, Jim attacked.

He pounced at the poor Catullus, rolled over onto his back and sighed, getting ready for he wasn't sure what. The book wasn't going to bite him, was it?

He sighed again the moment he opened it, for a real reason this time, and flipped towards number 109. As he skimmed through it, his heart caught in his chest again. Or maybe it was the sound of the door opening—although he couldn't imagine why David's return should agitate him so. 

He looked at the lines again, feigning attention, then gave David a very hurt look and all but threw the book at him.

To David's credit, he dodged for serious.

"It's in fucking _English_ ," Jim said and tossed the book to David's feet.

The latter picked it up, and next thing Jim knew, David was bent slightly over him, ruffling his hair. "You're a quick learner."

Jim suppressed the urge to say he had a beautiful teacher, shoving David in the side instead. A thought flickered about how maybe, just maybe, if he pushed him far enough, David wouldn't see his ears burning.


End file.
